


Ash

by Iamnamedsilence



Series: Inktober 2019 prompts stories [13]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Inktober 2019, Post Tresspasser, incoming war, non-graphic massacre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamnamedsilence/pseuds/Iamnamedsilence
Summary: It was dead people – corpses in the ruins, all of them massacred without any seeming purpose. They said that the Darkspawn did something like this during the Blight, leaving mutilated corpses when they couldn’t take all of them to eat – but it was not a Blight and it was not Darkspawn who did this.There were some horned corpses among the dead. Not a lot of them and their position indicated they died killed by the people trying to defend the village.From the short stories series written for Inktober 2019 prompts.





	Ash

From the hill, they could see, that the smoke was a burned village. It must have once been a picturesque settlement, with a villa belonging to some noble house on a nearby hill, orchards on the hillslopes, workers' houses below. An idyllic place created by a member of one of the great houses, perfect for them – and maybe good for his people.

Now it was all ash and cinder.

It was dead people – corpses in the ruins, all of them massacred without any seeming purpose. They said that the Darkspawn did something like this during the Blight, leaving mutilated corpses when they couldn’t take all of them to eat – but it was not a Blight and it was not Darkspawn who did this.

There were some horned corpses among the dead. Not a lot of them and their position indicated they died killed by the people trying to defend the village.

Dorian wanted to never find this. He wanted it to never happen.

What was that? A provocation? Whose? Dorian felt his entrails clench. There were too many possible contexts, too many tangled threads around what happened.

Clara was fighting with nausea, her face pale.

„You have your Qunari” she said.

He shook his head.

„They might be Tal-Vashoth”

„What’s the difference.”

He sighed. She was right. What was the difference – people will learn soon that Qunari massacred a peaceful village, no one will be interested in knowing, if the attackers were real Qunari, mercenaries hired for a reason – maybe even by some member of the Magisterium – or just a rogue band of outcasts not controlling the rage allegedly natural to their species.

He thought he should inform Bull. Not that Bull would be able to do something about the situation, but Dorian would feel better. Maybe Bull would have any idea what damage control could be done. If any was possible. But letting him know – this would be reassuring, just a little.

Dorian looked at the woman accompanying him. If Clara wasn’t there, he would change his plans, but there were so many things she didn’t know, and telling her now didn’t seem like a good idea. She was standing beside him looking at the village massacred by the horned race who was enemy to their country – how would she react, if she met a member of this race if she learned about his relationship with her friend. Dorian was not exactly ready for this: and some things were private, Maker damn it.

He noticed Clara was suppressing her nausea again. He shook his head, put a hand on her shoulder, allowing magic to flow into her, healing it.

„I could do it myself” she protested.

„You couldn’t concentrate.”

„What are we going to do now?” Clara asked. She was aware of the potential consequences. War was the last thing they wanted, though it seemed inevitable. „This will mess our plans.” She meant not only their plans for the next day but long term political plans as well. „Mae needs to know. And your friend, the Lavellan. We cannot be occupied with this, when...”

„No” Dorian agreed, thinking of political mess in Minrathous and of this dammed elven god who was once one of his friends. He also felt nausea of a sort – but it was inside his head if that was possible. „We cannot.” He rubbed his forehead, trying to think. He needed support in this mess. Meavaris was in Minrathous, Lyenne was Maker-knows-where. „All right, Clara, we need to find someone” he decided.

Maker damn it, the entire situation was already messed up enough. What worse could happen?

  


**Author's Note:**

> Clara is a concept for a character I would like to play in the fourth game. Depending on how much fixing DA4 will need, this scene will be more or less retconned in a longer text I have planned.


End file.
